


Reasons to Love (All Lumped into One)

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco is not an Idiot, Established Relationship, Harry is an idiot, Hermione is a Good Friend, Idiots in Love, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Harry can think of more reasons to love Draco Malfoy than he can count.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Reasons to Love (All Lumped into One)

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't my fave but its been in my drafts 4ever so here u go :p

Every morning, the sunlight filtered through the blinds and spread across their bedroom, curving in golden stripes around the angles of Draco’s sleeping form. The sloping bridge of his turned-up nose, the jut of his jaw, his sharp cupid’s bow; all highlighted by soft bands of light.

He slept late unless he had someone wake him, and until then Harry revelled in a moment reserved for him alone. The slow rise and fall of Draco’s chest and the sound of his gentle breathing. The content, relaxed expression on his face.

With his eyes closed, it was easy to see the faint pink veins under the thin skin of his eyelids and the way his long, pale brown eyelashes cast shadows down his cheeks. Harry got to notice things that others never did. In his moment, there was no stormy expression to have to look past or a furrow of his brow to ignore. It was only Draco, unadulterated; the way he looked without his default _I am Draco Malfoy and I'll sneer at you to show it_ expression.

It was just for Harry, and he loved Draco even more for it. Of course, he loved his sneers too. He hardly found himself on the receiving end of one anymore, but he still found him just as beautiful either way. He loved that Draco wore his emotions proudly, right there for everyone to see. He didn’t care for what others thought anymore, either. He’d realized that the people who mattered knew he was more than the choices he’d made as a child. So many things had changed since then.

He knew why he loved Draco. The ‘when did it begin’ and ‘how did you go from that to _this_ ’ weren’t as obvious. But if the swell in his chest when he opened his eyes in the morning was anything to go by, he had more than enough reasons as to why. He didn’t have a written list, because it would be far too long and admittedly strange to catalogue things like “the way he smells after getting caught in the rain”. He could recall innumerable fleeting moments when the smallest gesture, expression, or word from Draco reminded Harry of how he felt for him. When he laughed or scowled, whether he was in a good mood or completely grouchy, he never stopped feeling it.

He loved Draco because he was strong and didn’t let anyone make him out to be something he wasn’t, and because he drank his tea with excessive amounts of sugar and no milk. He loved Draco because Draco balanced him out and kept him grounded, and also because he kept his sock drawer folded and organized, but his desk was a mess of papers and quills and spilled ink. He loved him because he was obnoxiously posh and critical, even of himself, but he looked at Harry like nothing meant more. Because he gave Harry what he thought was one of his best purposes.

And because even though he saw more of him than anyone else and spent almost all of his time with him, it didn’t feel like enough. Despite the time they’d been together, Harry didn’t think he would ever stop wanting more, even after years and years. There would still be more to learn and hear, more reasons to love him.

Those were the things Harry made sure to tell him. Sometimes, he just felt that he needed to remind Draco that he was strong and beautiful and important and a million good things. He had his moments when Harry could tell that his confidence was slipping, and he didn’t think such a beautiful person deserved to feel that way. Other times, though, Harry only wanted him to know. He wanted him to know without a doubt that he cared for him and loved him and that nothing would ever change it. He could talk and talk, though, and he knew that it could never explain just how he felt.

What Harry didn’t know was why Draco loved _him_. Well, he knew the general things at least. But the specifics, as specific as the things Harry told him, he was unsure.

And so, like any rational wizard, one morning after waking Draco up and making him breakfast, he asked him.

“What?” Draco said with a laugh, his nose wrinkling. He put down his fork, which pierced a bite of egg, and looked up. “You know I love you.” He reached to hold Harry’s hand loosely from across the table.

Harry smiled. “Yes. I know but- No, really. I…” He held Draco’s inquiring gaze for a moment before looking away. “I tell you all of the small things, y’know, about…why I love you. Because there’s just so many new things all of the time, and I want you to know and... keep you updated, I reckon. But I realized that I, like, don’t know what the small things are for you. About me, I mean.” He clasped his hands in his lap and waited awkwardly.

“...The small things,” Draco said slowly.

“Well, yeah, like…” Harry thought about it for a moment before he gasped. “Oh! I have a new one! The way you squint at the telly to see when I put on Golden Girls because you think that if you don’t put on your glasses I won't realize you want to watch it.” He grinned as Draco sputtered ungracefully in reaction.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. What- I don’t even know what that is, Potter, I-”

Harry barked in laughter. “Okay, sure,” he interrupted before the subject could change. “But really, my point is that I want to know what those moments are for you. I love you because you pretend you don’t pay attention to Golden Girls-”

“What is-!”

“-and then pretend you don’t know what Golden Girls even is. Your turn.”

Draco blinked and his offended expression melted away. “Yes. Okay. The small things. Why do I love you. Well, because…” He pursed his lips in thought (another reason) and stared down at his food in concentration. Harry waited for a moment. “I suppose it’s because you... Oh, sometimes you- Hm. I…” He looked up, furrowed brow raising in surprise, and Harry realized he must be making a face. They stared at each other.

“Right,” Harry said, and he gave Draco a kurt smile. “Right, well. That’s alright. I reckon I should probably-” He checked his watch. “Yeah, I should really be going, it’s- Well, I’ve got..a lot of paperwork to get finished.” He smiled again, just as short, as he stood to put away his dishes.. “I love you, I’ll see you after work,” he said as he shrugged on his coat and opened the door.

“After work?” Draco asked. “But, Potter, aren’t we meeting for-” The door closed. Draco sighed. “Lunch.”

Harry’s day, after their breakfast incident, had started abysmally. He left home in an already not-so-great mood, and then the only elevator in the ministry that went to his office was out of order so he’d had to climb up three flights of stairs, only to be greeted by a pile of paperwork. And, well, that’s the excuse he’d given Draco for his early escape, but it wasn’t supposed to be true. But he reckoned he deserved it.

He wasn’t _mad_ at Draco or anything, despite how he acted. He was more embarrassed about…all of that. Especially the bit with the complete malfunction and running off like a maniac. But Draco could’ve said _something_ , at least, when Harry had asked him. He sort of just sat there driveling. And that’s exactly what Harry told Hermione during his lunch break.

“He just sat there driveling, Hermione. Draco, driveling. What was I supposed to think.”

“Well,” she said, using the tone she only used when she was about to say he was overreacting, “you did put him on the spot, Harry. If I was asked a question like that, I’d need a second to think about something really...genuine.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee. Her glasses fogged up a bit, and she took them off, hanging them on the hem of her jumper. “Maybe you’re overreacting just a bit?”

And there it was. Harry huffed and pushed his hair out of his face. “Sure, but I’m not, like, mad at him or anything. He didn’t do anything wrong. I just feel like... he should’ve been able to think of at least one thing, but he couldn’t. I’ve got all of these reasons to love him,” Harry explained, and he could feel himself going pink. “I could say a million things without even having to think about it, but he couldn’t even say one. It makes me think that I feel more for him than he does for me or something,” he finished lamely. This whole thing was awful. He slouched into his chair in embarrassment.

Hermione gave him a look. “Alright, you’re definitely overthinking. It’s really not that big of a deal. I know what you mean, but that was a lot. What did you expect him to say?” He could hear a bit of sympathy in there somewhere. Just a little, though.

“I know I’m doing too much,” he frowned. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? I have...a lot of emotions. I’m doing too much all of the time, with my whole reasons thing, and he’s… not like that. I don’t know. This is all really stupid. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He ran a hand back through his hair.

“That’s a nervous habit, you know,” Draco had once told him, very seriously, when he couldn’t stop fidgeting with it before a meeting. “It doesn’t very well make a difference in which way that mess is sticking up, and you know it doesn’t.” And, well, yeah.

“I know you don’t know what you’re saying,” Hermione said. “You didn’t even answer the question. What did you expect him to say? _Oh, Harry, darling_ ,” her voice dropped comically deep, suddenly, and went extremely posh. “ _You are just so handsome and burly and strong. I love you becau_ -”

“Hey, no! Stop, Hermione, ew--!” He laughed, though, and took a second to think about it. “Well, I don’t know what I expected, really. That’s why I asked. He never says those kinds of things.”

“Maybe you should’ve explained better, Harry,” she said. She frowned, then, and continued with finality, “Don’t look at me like that. Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I want to hear, either.” And that was that.

They spent the rest of his break on the topic of Ron’s laundry habits (and of Draco’s, in turn, which were predictably opposite), but Harry’s thoughts were only of the conversation he and Draco would inevitably have later. He had no idea where it would go.

-

It went, in short, unexpectedly.

Harry got home a little late, as result of the paperwork he’d spoken into existence, and could feel the exhaustion in his bones. He’d gotten rained on, too, when walking from the apparition point to the door, leaving his clothes and hair clinging uncomfortably to his skin, After all of that and a drying charm, though, everything looked to be going as usual. He opened the door to the smell of dinner.

Draco got home before him everyday, and thus brought it upon himself to cook and have dinner ready by the time Harry was home. Of course, Harry loved him for that, too, and for the way he looked wearing an apron with the top half of his hair, longer than the rest, tied back into a short ponytail.

He hadn’t turned at Harry’s arrival. Harry hung up his coat and slid off his shoes rather loudly, watching Draco for a reaction. He looked over his shoulder from where he stood in front of the stovel and gave him a smile. “Did you get that paperwork finished?” he said, simply enough, but Harry knew what he was alluding to. He hummed in response and came up just behind Draco. Tentatively, he rested his chin on his shoulder, his arms sliding around his slender waist. He was warm.

“What’s for dinner?” Harry began as casually as he could muster, although he had a clear view of the gnocchi soup on the stove.

“Gnocchi soup,” Draco said, his voice soft. And then they were silent again. Harry kissed his neck, gently, and then burrowed his face there, eyes closing, breathing in. He supposed he was trying to...say something without saying it. He didn’t know what. They stood like that for a moment, one form, before Draco pulled away to get their bowls with a murmured “it’s done”.

The soup was good, of course, and the wine was...wine. The music playing quietly from the stereo and the clink of metal spoons on porcelain were the only sounds, though, besides Harry asking, “How was your day,” and Draco answering, “It was fine.” The obvious tension of that morning hung heavy in the air. Harry wanted to say something but didn't. 

After dinner, Harry turned on the telly and settled into the sofa. Draco sat beside him with one of his tattered muggle novels, his legs crossed. And that was that. Five minutes passed and then ten. Harry wanted to say, “I’m sorry for being a crazy person,” or “Please don’t feel like you did anything wrong.” But there he sat, staring at the TV and not taking in a single word of it. He’d fought a troll when he was 11 and killed a dark lord when he was 17, he told himself. Surely, this is doable. Fifteen minutes.

As he opened his mouth, Draco paused the TV and set his book on the side table. Harry closed his mouth.

They looked at each other. “I do love you, you know,” Draco said finally, his brow furrowed and mouth turned down.

Harry licked his lips. “Yes,” he said. “I know that.” He pulled his legs up and faced Draco, leaning his head on the back of the sofa. “Of course I do.”

“This morning, I was worried-” He cleared his throat. “I was worried that...I don’t tell you enough. I thought maybe you weren’t sure, and that’s why…well.”

Harry frowned. “Draco, I know you do, I-” He covered his face with his hands, laughing shortly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was trying to do. I just-” He met Draco’s eyes. “I have this… thing. In my head. I tell you these specific little things. It’s stupid, I don’t know, sometimes, you just do things or say things and I think, ‘Wow, I love him,’ and I mean- You know. I like to tell you about it.” Draco nodded at him, and gestured for him to continue. “And so I was just thinking, what was that for you. Because, I know you love me, I really do. And I know why, I guess, but I just wanted to know what I do that makes you...think about it?”

“Well, yes, I-”

“And you didn’t do anything wrong this morning, I was just expecting some- big answer. Something to think about all day, I guess, I’m not sure, and I put you on the spot, but just- I’m not mad at you, and I wasn’t then, I was only…put off. It was my own fault, really, and-” He sighed loudly and clapped his hands on his knees. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Draco started again. “There’s one of them.”

Harry blinked. “What.”

Draco’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Your spiel just then. I thought, ‘Wow, I love him.’” He really smiled, then, and then his expression flattened out. “I never.... really think about things the way you do. I don’t think anyone does, to be honest, but anyway- I didn’t have anything at the top of my head this morning because, well, first of all, it was seven and I went to bed at five or so, but like I said; I know why I love you. You know why I love you. It’s because you’re good, and you’re kind, and you’re funny. You’re so- loving and thoughtful. You make sure I know that I’m... not bad. You understand me, and... and we just _work_.” Harry took in a breath and smiled on a slow exhale. “Also, you’re really fit,” Draco added as an afterthought.

Harry snorted at that, and moved to lay his head in Draco’s lap. He grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled it down into his hair. Draco’s fingers raked through his curls on instinct. He smiled lazily down at him. “I think…” he continued, “that I never broke it up into all of those parts like you do.” His voice was soothing. “I’ve just known that I love you, really. That’s all that mattered, so of course I’d thought those kinds of things, but I didn’t dwell on them for too long because they don’t change that I love you, or make it more important, it’s like… it just reminds me.”

Harry yawned, his eyes closing. Draco brushed a knuckle down his cheek. “Like now, with your sleepy face and your soft hair. I love them, and that they’re a part of you, but I’d never think of it as why I love you, Harry. I just do, and that’s all of the reasons I’ve ever needed. If you want to know, though, I’ll start keeping track, however it is that you do.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said on another yawn. “ I’m sorry for being...I dunno. I’ve got all of my little reasons, and you’ve got your...everything lumped into one. And that's alright.”

“Yes,” Draco said. “Nicely put. And by the way, we were supposed to have lunch.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Yes, well.”

Was that it? That went a lot simpler than it really should’ve, Harry thought.

Draco unpaused the TV. “Oh,” he said. “Golden Girls.” He put on his glasses.

The next morning, there was a smile on Harry’s lips before he even fully woke. He was warm and content. The sunlight filtered through the blinds and spread across their bedroom, curving in golden stripes.


End file.
